


Cup of Safety

by JazzRaft



Series: kitchen disasters [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 14:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: If Gladio was going to be hosting the runaway Prince of Lucis in his new apartment, he'd need to make sure his cabinets were better stocked. For now, all he's got is Cup Noodle.





	Cup of Safety

**Author's Note:**

> A [prompt fill](https://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/186705981777/ohh-also-can-i-request-a-gladnoct-for-the-kitchen) from a list of [kitchen disasters](https://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/186452779569/kitchen-disasters) requested by tumbler user [trippin-on-trash](https://trippin-on-trash.tumblr.com/).

“Do I even want to know what this is?”

“Just pipe down and eat it,” Gladio growled. “Royal pain in my ass.”

Noctis responded like the mature, dignified adult prince he was not: by sticking his tongue out at him. _Man-child_, Gladio thought, rolling his eyes and bearing his palm down on Noct’s head to push it into his cup. The prince sputtered and swore, ducking out from the attack before he could land in the nest of hot noodles.

It was the best Gladio could do on short notice and low supplies. He hadn’t been expecting company, otherwise he would have made sure his fridge was stocked. He was still adjusting to living on his own, trying to get used to the fact that grocery shopping was a weekly responsibility that he had to take on himself. Before that, it had been easy to take for granted being shopped for and served by a staff bought for the esteemed Shield’s household.

If he was going to be hosting a runaway prince every now and again, he’d need to be more thoughtful about filling his cabinets. For now, the best he could do was Cup Noodle, a convenience store staple so cheap and benign that the Crown Prince would have never heard of it.

“It’s just noodles, Noct,” Gladio told him, as Noctis raked his chopsticks through the broth.

“But you cooked them in a foam cup?”

It wasn’t a scandalized objection on behalf of pasta preparation everywhere. Instead, Noct was curious, stirring the noodles against the inside of the cup as if he were testing whether or not it would break open and spill over his hands. It was cute, this kittenish study of commoner food. It made Gladio smile.

He’d done his best to doctor it up with the few ingredients he had lying around in his kitchen. As much as he’d come to love and rely on the stuff, even he could admit that the standard Cup Noodle was more palatable with some home improvements. There were some eggs nearing the end of their “best by” date that he cracked into the boiling hot broth and one piece of gighee ham he wasn’t sure why he was saving that he chopped up and threw in, too.

He was no master of improvised cooking, not like Ignis, but it’d have to do for comfort food. Noctis looked like he’d needed it, rapping small knocks to his door, half hoping he’d be welcomed inside and half hoping Gladio didn’t hear them at all so he didn’t have to fumble through an explanation for imposing on his hospitality.

He hadn’t told him what was wrong yet, and Gladio hadn’t asked. He couldn’t force Noct to talk if he didn’t want to. He had to come to it on his own. All Gladio could do was wait and make him feel safe enough in his space to tell him what was bothering him.

Noctis lifted a mouthful of noodles from the cup, dredging the crimped yellow ribbons into the salty broth. It would taste a little richer with the egg cooked in, Gladio hoped, and a little smokier with the ham. But he promised himself he wouldn’t be insulted if Noctis didn’t like it. It could be hard to swallow after a lifetime of exotic, finely tailored meals prepared by the best chefs in Eos.

Noctis slurped up some noodles, bringing the cup closer to his face so as not to drip broth down his chin. His eyes widened in surprise, nodding as he bit off the infinite stream to swallow the mouthful he could fit.

“Not bad,” he announced, chancing a small smile at Gladio to convey his gratitude.

“Not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?” Gladio teased, nudging his elbow against Noct’s shoulder.

“Definitely not,” Noct laughed.

It was lighter than the mood he’d first brought in with him. His shoulders had been coiled tight on Gladio’s doorstep, and his fingers had latched onto the couch cushions like he’d been afraid they’d launch him out the apartment window. He’d felt like he’d been intruding, but also like he had nowhere else to go. Now, he sunk back into the couch and the wrinkles of contention on his forehead had smoothed. After a few more slurps of starchy noodles, he finally felt safe enough to confess.

“It can just be so stifling there, you know?”

Noctis nodded out the window, where the beacon of the Citadel shined through every home in Insomnia. It called Noct to his duty, his place on the throne behind his ailing father, to the halls of history haunted by the kings of yore that determined his future. It was hard to be eighteen and figuring out who you were when a pantheon of old men had already decided for you.

“Yeah,” Gladio said, indicating the apartment around them. “I know.”

“Is it better?” Noctis asked. “Living like this?”

“It’s different.”

Gladio hadn’t decided if he liked it or not yet. Whether he did, didn’t really matter in the end. It was something he’d felt like he needed to do, for his own sake and for Noct’s. He wanted to be the best Shield he could be for his Prince, and to do that, he felt like he needed to do what was best for himself first. Taking care of himself, learning about the kingdom they lived in first-hand, rather than through books or computers, had been one step in that goal.

Noctis set his empty cup on the coffee table, releasing all of the tension in his spine on a long sigh. Gladio’s apartment was small, but Noctis looked painfully smaller within the four walls. Gladio scooted closer and curled an arm around him. Like a reflex, Noctis slumped against his side, letting Gladio guide him where he wanted.

The Citadel was certainly stifling. It was hard to share the softer affections he knew Noctis needed with a hundred eyes scrutinizing their every move all the time. But they were in Gladio’s house now. They were in a space he was carving out for himself, where he made his own rules, made his own food, made his own sanctuary for Noct to run to when he needed to get away.

They could do whatever they wanted here. They could eat crappy Cup Noodle for a dollar each, gripe about the crusty old Councilmen that dictated each of their behaviors, and kiss away the dark gray clouds of expectation if they damn well pleased.

And Gladio did damn well please. He pressed a kiss to Noct’s forehead and hugged both of his arms around him, tugging him down to lay against his chest. They didn’t have to say anything or do anything that they didn’t want to here. They could just sit in silence, sink into each other’s warmth, and share the salty after-taste of instant noodles on their tongues.


End file.
